


fulfilling potential

by virginianwolfsnake



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Anxiety, I wrote this while trying to write something else, M/M, Pre-Canon, my attempt to make Jerome a slightly more sympathetic character, slight child abuse mention tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virginianwolfsnake/pseuds/virginianwolfsnake
Summary: jacques makes promises. he cannot keep all of them.
Relationships: Jacques Snicket/Jerome Squalor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Jerome is sixteen. He loves poetry and Bertrand thinks he could construct excellent codes if he was taught how. Lemony feels some of his views on the text are a little reductionist but, unusually, doesn’t have much else bad to say of him. Kit likes to reserve her judgements for later.

Today they wander in the woods together, doing nothing in the way Jacques is so rarely able to do. It occurs to him that Jerome does things like this all the time - without purpose in mind, just for the sheer enjoyment. Perhaps this is what it’s like to have some semblance of a childhood. It is for this reason that he feels a little older than his friend, even though they would be difficult to tell apart from the back, wearing the same size shoes and even the same size shirt.

Beatrice worries he won’t be brave enough. But Jacques would argue that none of them are really brave. They appear that way to people who have never been in the situations they face regularly, but really, they are only doing what they have to. Being forced to take the only viable option presented to you is not the definition of bravery. 

Jerome has never been forced to do anything, except for playing the piano, learning French, and not answering back. He succeeds in varying degrees at all of these. He is not musical and his tutor gets cross with him when he loses his rhythm without the metronome, but he _can_ play. He speaks French well enough to order his own meal, but not well enough to read the financial section of the newspaper. And he is good enough at not answering back most of the time. Jacques knows this last one to be the case because there are raised, angry lines on his palm every time he fails.

Jacques knows all too well that there are terrible injustices everywhere in the world. But one of them is surely that he still clings to the memory of his kind mother, gone long ago and never coming back, while Jerome’s own has so far escaped any kind of punishment.

When Jacques extends the invitation to join them on their hiking expedition, he isn’t thinking that Jerome will be excellent at codes, or that he can create new songs for the new recruits. He’s thinking that Jerome is being brave in his own way right now, and the strain of doing it has not even once made his smile any less genuine. _That_ is the kind of courage they need.

Jerome is making that face he does sometimes, when he wants to say something but he can’t construct a way to make sure it won’t be misinterpreted.

“What’s the matter?” Jacques encourages, low and soft. Jerome trusts quickly, more quickly than he has ever known - although he supposes he is not from trusting stock - and when Jacques smiles it seems he cannot help but smile back, in spite of his trepidation.

Looking sheepish, Jerome pauses to look up at the light streaming through the light cover of the trees overhead. “Do you think I’ll get along with all your friends?”

It is a charming, childish question, and Jacques trots over to link their arms cheerfully.

“I guarantee it,” he beams.


	2. Chapter 2

It is a chilly autumn afternoon and the winds are picking up, but that hasn’t stopped Jacques from wanting to visit the park. Jerome paradoxically seems warmer now than he had in the drawing room of his own home in front of the fireplace.

Jacques had turned out to be right about the chances of Jerome getting on with his associates, but wrong about his potential as a volunteer. It hadn’t been Jerome’s intention to cause trouble on the trip, but nevertheless he can agree with Beatrice on this occasion - there is a need, in these troubled days, for their entrance requirements to be higher than ever. Jacques had wondered aloud in that meeting about the logic for recruiting talented but unsavoury characters rather than marginally less talented but very amiable ones - isn’t that what got them into this mess in the first place? Nevertheless, Beatrice’s decision on the matter had stood with the others.

Still, Jacques can feel happy for it now. He has never been one of the recruits who considered membership of their organisation an adventure - it is a moral duty to protect the world they live in - but even he can admit that, in the past couple of years, membership has begun to feel like even more of a battle. This signals that either he has grown or that the schisms are deepening: either way, he can be glad that Jerome has no part in any of it.

Jerome, meanwhile, is going to college. He will be so different in a few years. Jacques hopes that he’ll use this time to branch out, expand his interests and become a little less rigid, less timid.

He feels so much like they are at the start of a new era that afternoon that he cajoles Jerome into trying a cigarette as they recline on a bench. It is a nasty habit - Lemony has told him so enough times - but, in the grand scheme of all the other bad things in the world, Jacques thinks it is really not so bad.

Jerome coughs violently on his first attempt to inhale, and after he has somewhat recovered from the shock he pulls a face. “That’s awful!”

In spite of his words, he takes another drag, wincing at the taste before he coughs heartily again.

“Put it out, then!” Jacques laughs, plucking the offending item from his hand and stubbing it out on the wood. “You don’t have to have it.”

Jerome regards him guiltily, as if he feels he has failed a test. But Jacques knows that look by now, and he nudges him with a sharp elbow and smiles until he does it back.

“Are you excited to go tomorrow?” Jacques asks cheerfully. “It will probably be exciting to see a new city.”

In Jerome’s life so far he has seen Paris, Rome, Berlin and London, among many others - all new cities with their excitements and challenges. But what Jacques really means to say is that it will be exciting to have one of these experiences entirely to himself for the first time, without his mother’s temper and his father’s cold indifference to contend with at the same time.

Jerome smiles warmly because he knows what he means. “I suppose.”

“Suppose?”

In the years of their friendship Jerome has come to understand that Jacques is never trying to start a fight. He is not going to snap or raise his voice and he will not be angry if their opinions are different. This is what undoubtedly gives him the confidence to ask his next question.

“Do you think you will ever come to visit?”

“Of course,” Jacques answers promptly, though then he remembers his hectic schedule and his usual lack of control over his travel plans. “I will when I can, at least. Certainly I will at least write.”

Jerome smiles gratefully, but there is some sadness in his eyes too. They do not need to talk about it for Jacques to understand. He has been his only real friend in this city for a long time and their relationship has taken on an importance for both of them, if an unequal one - Jerome can speak more openly with Jacques because he is not one of his old school-friends or a child of one of his father’s friends. And, if he is honest with himself, Jacques can admit that he can do the same because Jerome is not a volunteer. It is refreshing and unburdening when they speak, and Jacques knows that the look in his eyes means that he is frightened of losing that during his time away.

Jacques also knows that they will not, because he is frightened of the same thing and he will not allow it.

He reaches over and gently taps his friend’s knee. “I will be here when you come back,” he assures kindly. “It will all be fine - much better than fine, probably. But I can’t guarantee the latter.”

“Are you guaranteeing the former?”

Jacques grins. He doesn’t like to make promises he cannot keep, but today he feels confident enough to nod resolutely and say: “I am.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jerome looks very dapper in his tie and jacket, and the dark green is a bolder than usual choice that Jacques’ time in fashion journalism has recently taught him to appreciate. Nevertheless, the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he looks at himself in the mirror, adjusting his tie even though the silver clip holds it in the perfect position already.

A few years out of the shadow of his parents has done him the world of good. He has learned how to make friends at parties and even has a few quite funny anecdotes on rotation. His innate empathy is no longer labelled as being _over-sensitive_ and his rare desire to listen more than speak is no longer _shy_. It is as if he has finally started to see the things that make him so wonderful as qualities rather than flaws.

None of this personal development seems to have prepared him to be flung back into Jacques’ circle of intimidating acquaintances. He has fussed over everything today from the colour of the jacket to the shape of the tie, even down to the cufflinks. The worst part of all of this is that he has no reason to worry. The last time Lemony gave any of them a public dressing down was three months ago now - a record. It is strange that his acerbic little brother and the iron-willed Beatrice should have a calming effect on the other, but it has seemed to work thus far. Besides even that, Lemony has been reminded every day this week that if he causes trouble he will find himself locked in a cupboard with Eleanora, so Jacques is fairly sure he will not act up.

“Why are you stressed?” Jacques eventually asks.

“I’m not,” Jerome responds, while trying to get his hair to sit in the way he likes. It stubbornly reverts back to its natural part.

Jerome doesn’t like to argue. He doesn’t even like to disagree on a purely academic level and this is why Jacques won’t argue with him about whether his last statement is accurate. There is nothing to be gained from arguing if the other person simply gives in without ever seeking to understand why they were wrong. There is also nothing to be gained from rattling his friend’s nerves.

Instead, Jacques holds up both sets of cufflinks, distracting Jerome from his ongoing battle with his hair. It looks perfectly fine either way, and he will realise as much when he settles down. “Have you decided?”

“Not yet,” Jerome answers with a despairing look. “What do you think?”

“That hardly matters,” Jacques replies. “It is your choice.”

The younger man groans loudly. “Jacques,” he starts, but then Jacques draws close to him, closer than normal, standing between him and the mirror. His eyes relax, as though it is a relief to see Jacques stark features instead of his own.

“Do you think it matters?” Jacques’ tone is cool and calm and reassuring, careful not to challenge. “Will I think any less of you if you choose incorrectly?”

Jerome rolls his eyes. “No, but that’s -”

“Would anyone who mattered think any less of you if you chose incorrectly?”

Jerome presses his lips together.

“And is there a way to choose incorrectly,” Jacques asks, tone turning playful now. “When you are choosing between cufflinks so nearly identical that the difference will be _undetectable to the human eye?_ ”

When he laughs, Jerome does too. “You are right.” His eyes crinkle and he rubs his forehead with his fingers, as if exhausted by his own foolishness. “Of course, you’re right.” Breathing out in his relief, he reaches out to tap lightly on one of the boxes. “Those are fine.”

“Good man.” Jacques takes them out for him and hands them over.

“I’m ready now,” Jerome says afterwards, with a nod. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“There is no need to apologise,” Jacques says sincerely. He means it, too. A part of him wonders whether they might have had a nicer time here in Jerome’s apartment for the rest of the evening than they will at the ball anyway. Because he knows he needs to hear it, he then meets his friend’s warm eyes with raised eyebrows. “It will be fun. I _promise_.”

With a chuckle, Jacques pats him on the arm. In that moment, with Jerome distracted, he brings up his other hand with a wicked grin to flick the younger man’s hair back in the other direction again.


End file.
